


Judge Of Character

by TheStoryOf14



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryOf14/pseuds/TheStoryOf14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bingley would just not listen to sense. So we moved to Netherfield. And that's when it all went wrong. Bingley got bewitched by some girl, and I could not get her sister out of my mind. And none of that was ever supposed to happen... P&P, Darcy's version</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Netherfield

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any characters created by Jane Austen. Full credit goes to her for all situations and information mentioned in her book Pride and Prejudice, the storyline of this fanfic is all me and the little voice in my head – and thus, of course, not to be copied by anybody else – that would be stealing my creativity, my ideas – and not very nice

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.  
However little known the feelings or views of this man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.  
And it was with this truth in mind, that I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was trying very hard to dissuade my friend, Charles Bingley, from renting the house he had set his eye on.

Only last monday had my friend travelled south to inspect this house. He had come back filled with plans for redecorations, parties, and most of all: meeting new people and expanding their social circle.  
I am, even now, not ashamed to say that I did not, at the time, understand the attraction of the so-called 'rural life' and, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I could not phantom what good could come from moving away from the busy life of London, to a place where I doubted people would have ever heard of such a thing as business.

If Bingley had to move about, I thought, he might as well go to a place with some decent entertainment, acceptable company and a large library.  
The alternatives offered by an estate such as Netherfield Park, whether they be long walks, the simple life in the outdoors or splendid views, would, after all, hardly suffice to keep a company of the likes of our friends entertained.

After all, Mr. Hurst, quaint though he may be, was, if nothing else, quite set in his ways within the busy life that London held for him. The clubs, the cards, the gambling, ... No, I could not see how he would manage to settle in at Netherfield, even if it did hold a rich collection of french wines.  
Mrs. Hurst, quite unlike her husband, was not that much of an avid for the ladies' clubs. She did, however, seem rather put on her daily walk trough the busy streets of London, searching for a dress, a hat, or just a simple trinket which she could wear at one of the numerous parties she had become quite famous for throwing.  
Charles' other sister, Caroline, enjoyed these parties just as much as her sister and brother-in-law, but to her, London held the added comfort of having all her painting- and drawing supplies right at her disposal, as well as having her numerous partitures always at hand.  
Really, I thought, the only one who might possibly enjoy this trip into the stranger outskirts of England, was Bingley. And eventhough the two of us had been friends for longer than I cared to remember, I would never deny the fact that Bingley had a way of looking at things, that made them see much more easy than they actually were.

In short, Bingley could not be allowed to progress in this fashion, and if there was one person who could tell him so, it was me.  
It was with this resolve in mind, that I left for Bingley's.

When I returned, it was not to celebrate the results I had expected from our converstaion - and, quite honestly, I was a bit shocked with Bingley's reaction to my expressing my doubts.

The younger man was usually easily influenced by those he considered his friends, feeling that, being the youngest, he should take into account the added experience they had.  
However, he had proven to be most headstrong on this particular subject.  
He was absolutely certain that this was the right thing to do, he was sure that I would come to see this too, and he just knew that we would all toroughly enjoy our stay at Netherfield Park.  
Because if he went to Netherfield Park, so would all of us, and go to Netherfield Park he would.


	2. The Ball

I honestly couldn't believe that I was going to be stuck here for the next who knew how many months.

Everything was just so - so  _rural_.

The people, their interests, their choice of conversation, their apparent need to just  _promote_  themselves to anyone who might turn out to be a potential husband. _  
_

Especially that one woman, the one with more daughters than she could obviously afford.  
Why didn't she just give them tags, proclaiming they were available?

Really, we had not been here for more than a fortnight, and already every man in the vicinity with a daughter who was out, seemed to have made our acquaintance. I might have found it entertaining, were it not for the fact that it was obvious they had quickly expanded their interest from Bingley to include me as well.  
After all the advances I'd had to rebuke from Miss Bingley lately, I honestly could not say I was surprised, but it was very unpleasant none the less.

The very first night of our stay, we had been invited to a ball, organized by one of the town's upstanding citizens. From the very beginning it was clear that the larger part of the women had come there in search of a potential spouse. It should have come as no surprise that our entrance had been greeted with whispers and keen stares. At the beginning of the evening, I had the luck of being an unknown. Whereas Bingley's name and even worth were heard throughout the room, I was still something of an enigma.

Unfortunately, though, the powers of provincial gossip proved to exceed his fervent wish for anonymity, and soon enough, my name and value as well were passed from one eager woman to another. The attention I had thus far gotten as a friend of the most sought-after bachelor of the evening had increased tenfold as it occurred to them that I was 'even more of a catch', as I heard one woman say to a man I presumed was her husband.

More than ever before I wondered why I had not insisted to remain at home, if not at Pemberley, then at least at Netherfield. Although the library was not as complete as the one at Pemberley, and even though the gardens were not quite as wel kept, it would have been a definite improvement when compared to the eyes I could continuously feel on my back, trying to determine my desirability, making me want to crawl away.

It was at this moment that Miss Bingley decided to express her concurrence with his, apparently obvious, disapproval of the nights festivities. Were it not for the fact that she so blatantly pursued the same union every one of the women present seemed to seek, I would have gladly joined her in commenting upon the general behaviour of those he wished to avoid. As it was, however, I prefered to seek out my friend and inquire what his evening had been like. I had seen him dance with the one girl who immediately caught every man's eye, but did not know whether any other woman had been honoured with his attention.

Very soon, though, it became clear that the blonde beauty was very much the only girl he noticed. Even during our conversation, brief though it was, he would repeatedly sneak a glance in her direction, even smiling to her. It was obvious, that at least one mother would go home a satisfied woman tonight. We talked for a few more minutes, and soon one of Bingley's most endearing traits emerged: whenever he was happy, truly content, he would not stop until those he held dear were the same. Unfortunately, on this occasion that consisted of trying to persuade me to consider dancing with one of the other women so numerously present.

Little did he know that at that moment, dancing was the last of my needs. A quiet room, a good book, perhaps even a single malt were the things foremost on my mind now, although it was questionable whether I would be able to enjoy those pleasures any time soon. I had never been able to either confirm or deny whether Bingley was aware of the direction his sister's attention took, but her ever persistent proximity had made it nigh impossible for me to ever truly be at ease. It was that which I truly missed most about home: its sophisticated peace, accompanied by the quiet presence of my sister.

Bingley, however, seemed very determined to have me change my mind, if not about women in general, then at least about my dancing with one of them tonight. As he went on and on about how pleasant the girls present were, I finally tried to halt him:

" _You_  are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," I said, hoping to persuade him to shift his attentions back to the beauty. Even then, he pointed out her sister to me, so that I saw myself forced to give a harsher response than I normally would have:

"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt  _me_ ; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

As I turned back, though, I found myself admiring the strength that spoke from her eyes, a thought that would linger for the rest of the night.


	3. A Pair of Fine Eyes

The morning after the ball, we were all quite happy to enjoy the calm and quiet offered by Netherfield Park. Charles, Mr. Hurst and I withdrew to the library, while Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley went for a walk through the gardens. As they came back quite hungry - although they would, of course, never say something like that out loud - they had their luncheon about an hour before we three got hungry.

As such, it was already time for tea when we all reunited in the beautiful dining room, at the end of which we went on to play cards and discuss our day. As we exchanged impressions of the house and its surroundings, complementing both the excessiveness of the library and the beauty of the gardens, I found myself thinking that Charles might just have been right. Who knew, we might actually enjoy our time here.

Of course, that soon enough proved to be wishful thinking.

Although we soon settled into a routine very similar to that of our first days, the peace and quite I so enjoyed, often had to make room for social outings.

The villages of Meryton and Longbourne were soon discarded as being too small, too quaint, and severely lacking in fashionable items, so we all spend the larger part of our time at Netherfield Park, or walking on its extended grounds.

As a result of our attending that first ball, there were soon some invitations delivered for other happenings and balls in the neighbourhood. Most of us didn't much care to spend our time in the presence of the local people, but Charles was very much enchanted by some of the people he had met at that first ball, especially a certain blonde with four sisters. As a consequence of this, we found ourselves accepting each and every invitation we received, oft-times only hearing about it the morning of the happening.

As another result of that first ball, we were soon called upon nearly every day. Charles, Mr. Hurst and I managed to be absent for most of those calls, but as a result of Charles' infatuation (as I had come to call it) we were there nearly every time the Misses Bennet called on us.

The very first time, mere days after the ball, both Charles and I had business to attend to in the next town, so we only heard about it when, at dinner, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst thought it fit to give us a vivid description of their day.

The six of them, for Mr. Bennet had been unavailable, had called on Charles' sisters at a little past eleven. Though I could not believe, from what little we were told about the actual conversation, that they had discussed any matters of importance, apparently it had sufficed for the ladies to form their opinions about all six of them.

As far as Mrs. Bennet was concerned, they called her a talkative, gossiping, indiscrete woman, who had apparently given the worse of her characteristics to her two youngest daughters. As Mrs. Bingley stated: it was clear that, exactly because of that, she favoured especially her youngest daughter.

The middle daughter, whom I could not at all recall from the ball, was overtly pious, and, according to Mrs. Hurst, quite mouse-like: you so easily disregarded her, as she was not at all dressed to complement her complexion.

In short: the only redemption for the family were the two eldest daughters, who were "witty, intelligent, and quite pretty, although Miss Bennet more so than Miss Elizabeth Bennet".

Had I valued Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley's opinion more than I did, I might have felt glad that the one girl Charles seemed to have taken a liking to had their approval, but as it was, the only thing I really cared to think upon was that I could not agree with their assessment of Miss Elizabeth's beauty. Although it was true that her sister was more of a classic beauty, I could not help but feel that, in her own way, there was something stunning about both her looks and her intelligence, which shone so brightly from her eyes - those very eyes I had not yet been able to make myself forget about.

Soon enough, the Bennet's visit was returned in due form. Again, Charles' sisters concluded that, indeed, only the eldest sisters were worthy of making their acquaintance. And so, every few days, one group of women would visit the other, occasionally allowing for Charles and myself to speak with them as well.

It became very clear to me, almost immediately, that Charles did indeed very much like Miss Bennet, but I could not decide if her regard for him was anything more than that of a friend, or if she was just shy, and not keen on public displays of affection.

It became just as clear to me, even sooner, that my regard for Miss Elizabeth Bennet was more than I had allowed myself to think it was. Even though there was more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, and her manners were not at all those of the fashionable world, I found the lightness and general pleasing sight of her figure, as well as the easy playfulness of her manners to quite make up for these faults. I was, however, very much aware of the difference in our stations, and so forced myself to regard her as nothing more than the sister of a girl - no, woman - who was quickly making her way into Charles' life.

At the very next assembly, which took place at Sir William Lucas', I found myself trying to stay as close to her as possible, even allowing myself to be persuaded to ask her to dance, although I was swiftly refuted.

As Miss Bingley accosted me mere minutes later, I could not help but reply that her conjecture was was totally wrong and my mind had been more agreeably engaged: "I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

When she desired me to tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections, it was both because of my want for seeing her reaction and my need to express my feelings, even if only indirectly, that I responded, again, truthfully 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet.'

Seeing and hearing her surprise at this answer, I could not help but wonder at the irony - that I should have so dreaded the idea of coming here, of mingling with this 'lower' class of people, and should already feel so strongly about one of them - whereas Miss Bingley, who had made her intentions as obvious as she could without being impudent , I could not care less about.


End file.
